


someday, somebody from somewhere

by beardsley



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardsley/pseuds/beardsley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve tries to set Bucky up, Bucky has a problem with second dates, the Avengers end up staging an intervention and a fake date turns out better than expected. Or, how Steve Rogers got his groove back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	someday, somebody from somewhere

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [某天，来自某处的某人](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602209) by [lexdivina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexdivina/pseuds/lexdivina)



> this is for caughtinanocean (hope you enjoy! ♥), who requested Steve/Bucky and setting up and jealousy and getting together (and maybe other Avengers helping). this was also intended as a tumblr fic, except it grew into a monster. I'd be embarrassed about writing something so fluffy and sappy, but, you know, this can't be worse than the one with the kitten, or that other fic for caughtinanocean, currently titled 'brooklyn hipsters oh god what'.
> 
> title from Gershwin, because I am nothing if not consistent in being ridiculous.

Steve slides a piece of paper across the table, a phone number written on it in black pen. Bucky eyes it like it might jump up and bite him on the nose, then squints up at Steve.

'This is getting weird,' he says.

'What?'

'You trying to set me up,' Bucky elaborates. 'It's getting weird.'

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and puts on his best righteously offended face, which of course doesn't exactly _work_ on Bucky, but at least Steve makes the effort, it should count for something. 'I'm not trying to set you up.' He clears his throat. 'I'm trying to make you happy.'

That's the idea, isn't it? To help Bucky get back on the horse, and to help him deal.

'From here it looks more like you owe people money and you're whoring me out.'

' _Bucky_!' This time the righteous indignation is absolutely honest, and Steve isn't sure what's worse: Bucky thinking Steve could owe people money and never tell him (since he's pretty sure the only way he could owe anyone money in the first place would be if he let Bucky talk him into something shady — not that he's speaking from experience, of course not), or Bucky thinking Steve would try to make him sell his body to the night without doing that himself first.

Bucky frowns. 'What? That's what it looks like.' But when faced with Steve's hurt feelings, which the Avengers have started to call his Wounded Gazelle Gambit, Bucky relents. He throws up his hands. 'Fine. Fucking fine. Give me that. Who is it? Where do I take her?' He picks up the piece of paper, then notices Steve's look of horror, and his eyes go very wide. 'To _dinner_! Jesus Christ.'

'Oh, to dinner.' Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 'That's just what I was thinking about.'

It really wasn't.

~

'So this is Avengers Tower,' Bucky says a few days later, with a sweeping gesture that encompasses the takeout boxes strewn across the floor, bits of machinery Bruce and Tony leave lying around everywhere, Natasha's guns, a few broken arrows, and of course the team squeezed together on a sofa, watching _The Little Mermaid_.

Bucky's date looks like she's trying very hard not to show her disappointment. 'Cool.'

Walking out of the kitchen Steve stops in his tracks, arms full of popcorn, and smiles.

'Monica, this is Steve.' Bucky rolls his eyes. 'Steve, Monica.'

'Hi,' Steve says.

Monica's eyes go a little wide, and she sticks her hands in her pockets. 'Oh. Hi, sir. Agent Chang.'

The smile kind of falls off Steve's face when he notices Bucky's right hand on Agent Chang's hip. 'I know,' Steve says.

There's an awkward pause. The team are watching the proceedings with morbid curiosity.

'So,' Agent Chang says finally, shoulders hunched, 'where to now?'

Bucky doesn't seem to notice her forced cheer. 'You said you have clearance to pilot a quintjet?' He gives her the kind of smile that used to make ladies wobbly in the knees, back home, and Steve frowns when Agent Chang doesn't swoon.

What she does instead is match Bucky's grin and shove him in the ribs with her elbow. 'I didn't know you liked fast girls, Sergeant Barnes.'

'They should just put it in my file,' Bucky says, and punches the elevator button for the roof. 'Fast girls, fast rides, fast --'

The doors slide shut before he's finished.

Steve sets his jaw and sits on the floor in front of the couch, and hands the popcorn to Clint. He was really enjoying _The Little Mermaid_ , but now his good humour is gone. Does Agent Chang even _like_ Bucky? She didn't look very smitten. Perfectly nice and very attractive, but something about her was just off. And it's really ridiculous to dislike someone for being _likeable_ , isn't it, except Steve is pretty sure that's what's happening. Maybe Agent Chang is secretly evil, and it's just his sixth sense going off.

But that's completely ridiculous, Darcy and Agent Chang are friends and Darcy promised Steve she'd be perfect for Bucky, and Steve feels like a horrible human being. It would be easier if there was something inherently annoying about the woman — although the fact that she didn't swoon, that was kind of dodgy — but it's ten times worse when Steve knows she's a competent agent and a talented operative and a generally good person, and still for some reason Steve finds himself hoping her date with Bucky is _really crap_.

'You okay?' Bruce asks, and Steve realises he must have been pretty obvious in his fuming. He forces his shoulders to relax.

'I'm fine.'

Except for Bucky's hand on Agent Chang's hip. That was not fine. That was definitely, definitely not fine. Maybe she's a Skrull in disguise, Steve thinks, then wants to kick himself for being a jerk, which in turns annoys him even more.

'You look kind of not fine,' says Bruce, very gently.

'Well, I am,' Steve says, and glares daggers at the television set. 'I'm glad Bucky is happy, that was the whole plan. It has to help him with the Winter Soldier stuff, I'm sure Agent Chang is a lovely dame and obviously not evil, and I'm glad for Bucky. Because he's happy.'

After a beat, Bruce clears his throat. 'No one said anything about James, but okay.'

Steve can just _feel_ the team communicating silently over his head; it's happened before, though usually they include him, and the topic at hand is _how do we tell Clint he can't just sleep on top of the fridge?_ or _Tony and Pepper and the Mark VIII are getting kind of creepy, aren't they, shouldn't we do something before it escalates?_. Steve grabs for the remote and clicks play: Ariel and her prince charming are on a boat in a blue lagoon, and a chorus of sea animals sings about how he should just kiss her.

Tony coughs. 'Wow, this movie is suddenly so appropriate. This oblivious moron is totally like — hey, ouch!'

Steve pretends he doesn't hear Natasha throwing herself over the couch to gag Tony.

'He's right, though,' says Bruce. 'Except for the image of — of you-know-who as Ariel, that's scary and wrong.'

'No one is Ariel,' Natasha says. 'And no one is unknowingly reenacting Disney cliches.'

'Can we just watch the goddamn movie?' Steve snaps.

Everyone shuts up.

~

'I talked to Agent Chang,' says Clint in the mess hall, dropping his lunch tray opposite Steve's. 'She likes Barnes.'

'Oh,' says Steve.

'But not enough for a second date.'

' _Oh_ ,' says Steve, relieved, and hates himself for being a terrible friend.

Clint watches him for a moment, like he's not sure what to do, or like he knows what to do but doesn't really want to do it. Finally, though, he just sighs and steals Steve's coffee. Steve decides to be polite enough to pretend he doesn't notice.

'So in the past three months, Barnes got a bunch of new platonic lady friends,' Clint says. He takes a sip of Steve's coffee and winces; it's his own fault, he should know by now Steve takes his without sugar. 'Because apparently no one likes him enough for a second date.'

'Then they don't know what they're missing,' Steve mutters mutinously.

Clint winces again. 'I'm told it's got more to do with the thing where he's already got someone he's into.'

'So he's still not over Natasha. Look, I know it's been a long time for her, but you gotta give him time to adjust, and —' Steve's eyes go wide. Is this why Clint's talking to him? 'Oh god, you're not gonna challenge him to a duel, are you? Cause I'm pretty sure he could take you, but mostly I'm even more sure Natasha would stab you in both eyes if she found out.'

Clint stares. 'What are you even — no. What? No!' Now, Clint looks like he wants to put his face in his hands. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes in and out, and levels Steve with a determined scowl. 'All right. I didn't want to do this, but I got vetoed by the others. Steve, this is officially an intervention.'

'An intervention,' Steve repeats, not particularly enthusiastic.

Clint nods. 'You have a problem. With the whole, the living vicariously through the people you throw at Barnes? It's a problem. We think maybe you need to get out more. Get your groove back. Meet someone. Get laid.' He makes a zip-it gesture with his hand when Steve opens his mouth to protest. 'Tony's words, not mine. Now shut up, this is my intervention speech. Okay? Okay. Now, we have a perfect date for you.'

'I don't think,' Steve starts, with a terrible ominous feeling.

'No talking,' says Clint. 'I'm going to describe this person to you, and if she's your type, you'll meet her. And whatever happens, I swear to you right now we will never have to speak of this again. Okay?'

Steve's enthusiasm isn't exactly skyrocketing, but he just sighs in defeat. 'Okay.'

'Okay. So. Here we go. Tall, dark, super hot. Cleans up _real_ nice. Or so I'm told,' Clint adds, a little shifty. 'Uh. Military background. Likes Ella Fitzgerald and big bands, and old movies, and doesn't communicate through pop culture references. Cool. Professional on the job. She's got some shitty stuff in her past, but she's working on that. Kind of snarky and bad-tempered, and you probably don't want to piss her off. Won't be impressed with your perfect hero routine. What else, what else…loyal to a ridiculous degree, and you know, just a good person, she'll always do the right thing, but she won't blink if the right thing isn't the _nice_ thing.'

Steve wants to object to that, he doesn't have a _perfect hero routine_ , but Clint's look shuts him up and he lets himself think about this perfect person instead. 'Is it a SHIELD agent?' he wants to know.

Clint opens his mouth, then closes it. 'Y…eah?' he tries.

'I guess she is kind of my type,' Steve admits. 'But she sounds way out of my league.'

'Dude,' says Clint, and that's the tone he always uses when he wants to make sure Steve is being serious. When Steve doesn't blink, he just shakes his head. 'This is your perfect date. You're meeting her tonight, and if you get lucky?' Clint taps the side of his nose with his thumb. 'Remember, make her breakfast in the morning.'

Steve rolls his eyes.

~

He walks into a bar and feels like it's the start of a terrible joke, but no one jumps out to shout, 'Surprise! We were just kidding, everyone thinks you're destined to be alone forever!' so he stops fidgeting and tries to look around without coming off as desperate or creepy.

How did it come to this, anyway? It was Bucky who was supposed to get out there and meet someone, and Steve wanted to help, and now _he's_ the one going to a blind date set up by Clint of all people (who, Steve is pretty sure, got together with Natasha through their mutual hobby of beating people up); with a sudden twist in his gut Steve realises what a terrible idea this whole thing is, a _tremendously_ terrible idea, and he knows with a grim certainty the only way it can end is in tears.

Or worse, bloodshed.

There aren't any dames sitting by themselves. Steve checks the time; okay, so he's five minutes early. Maybe she's very punctual. Maybe on-the-dot punctuality is a 21st century thing no one told him about yet. For a blessed second Steve thinks about just hightailing it out of here, but that's the pathetic coward inside him talking, so instead of running Steve squares his shoulders and tells himself to take his inevitable failure and shame like a man.

And that's when he notices Bucky sitting at the bar.

Steve's first, completely ridiculous, thought is: he really _does_ clean up nice — that's nothing new. But then Steve's brain kicks in. He shakes his head and makes his way over, and takes the seat next to Bucky.

Bucky turns to him, and his eyes go wide. 'What are you doing here?'

'My thoughts exactly,' says Steve, which isn't the whole truth. His thoughts also include a big dose of…Steve elects to call it aesthetic appreciation…for the way Bucky's jeans ride low on his hips, and the collar of his shirt opening just under his collarbone. Whoever he's waiting to meet better appreciate it too, that's all.

'I'm waiting for a date. Natasha set me up.' He glances at his watch, then back at Steve, and then something seems to click for him. He gapes at Steve. 'Oh, Jesus. She _set me up_.'

It takes Steve a moment to get it, and then he does. Heat rushes to his face, and he thinks he might actually pass out, because this is so much worse than tears and bloodshed. 'Oh my god,' he manages. 'They set us up.'

'She and Barton are on our six, by the way. I think they're trying to be stealthy or something,' says Bucky. He puts his face in his hands, and just laughs helplessly. When Steve looks at the mirror behind the bar, he sees Clint and Natasha in fedoras and dark sunglasses, hiding behind a pair of menus. Bucky looks at Steve, then has another attack of the giggles, but finally calms down enough to ask, 'So how did they get you to come? Did they say there was a fire? Blind orphans dying left and right?'

'I'm not dressed for saving orphans,' Steve counters, looking down at his shirt and jeans. 'No, Clint described a perfect date for me. He just fudged some pronouns, I'm pretty sure if he didn't I'd catch on he was talking about you.'

Bucky's mouth twists in a crooked smirk. 'So I'm your perfect date?'

Steve gives him a tight smile; suddenly, this is a lot less funny. Because Clint was right, it did sound like a perfect date, almost too perfect: everything Steve could ever want in another person. And now that he changed the pronouns from _she_ to _he_ , and then from _he_ to _Bucky_ , it makes a scary amount of sense — in the worst possible way. Because if the team wanted him to realise he was maybe probably kind of a little bit in, you know, love with his best friend, how is that supposed to help anyone?

As far as epiphanies go, this might just be the worst one in Steve's life.

Sure, he gets now what Clint meant by the whole 'living vicariously through the people you throw at Barnes', but the thing is, what is Steve supposed to do with it now? Accept it and hope it goes away?

Yeah, right.

Bucky watches him for a moment, face unreadable. If there's even a chance of pity in his expression, Steve decides he's officially done and entertains a brief and deeply pathetic fantasy of drinking alone in a bathtub with sad jazz music playing in the background, but Bucky just smirks at him. 'All right, you wanna do this or what?' he asks, and there's an evil glint in his eye. He jerks his chin in the direction where Natasha and Clint pretend to be wallpaper. 'Let's show these jokers how it's done.'

'I…'

'At least let me buy you a drink,' Bucky wheedles, with a terrible, over-the-top come-hither look.

'Fine,' Steve says, laughing. 'Fine. I'll have whatever you're having.'

Which turns out not to be the best idea Steve has that evening, because the drink Bucky buys him is absolutely horrible. It burns the whole way down Steve's throat and leaves a sweet and bitter aftertaste, and Bucky watches Steve's face with a fondly resigned smile.

'What _is_ this?'

Bucky knocks back his own drink, unblinking. 'Black Russian.'

'I hope you don't think that's poetic or something,' Steve says, and waves the bartender over to order a beer.

But after that, things actually get a lot easier. They always do, with Bucky. He's — well, there's a reason he's Steve's best friend, just like there's a reason the future couldn't ever feel right without Bucky in it. There's a reason Steve's command voice doesn't work on Bucky, even when it might work on soldiers bleeding in trenches, on terrified NYPD officers, or even the Avengers. To everyone, Steve was always and is something more than himself, but for Bucky there was never a cadet or an experiment or a hope or an idea; no Captain Rogers, or Captain America.

For him, there was only ever Steve.

It was Steve who he helped up stairs in the winter and held his hand through asthma attacks, who he curled up next to on a threadbare mattress and didn't care if he caught Steve's pneumonia. But it was also Steve he killed for, in the war, and who he stayed human for despite that. And maybe it was a bunch of SHIELD scientists and some Asgardian tech that brought back Bucky's memory, but when he was faced with all he had done as the Winter Soldier — Steve knows that him being in the future with Bucky was the reason Bucky chose to stand up and fight again, and try to make amends instead of just saying _no_.

(He knows this because Bucky told him, one night when they both couldn't sleep and it seemed like a good idea to break into the whisky. 'I had a plan,' he'd said. 'I can set my left arm to deliver a pretty big shock, some forty thousand volts. Like an electric chair. I don't know, it just felt right. But then they tell me you're here, alive and well and fighting the good fight. And I gave you my word. I promised I'd follow you. I don't care how much blood I got on my hands.' And Steve said the only thing he could, the only truth he had: 'I don't care either.')

It's always easy with Bucky, and the realisation that Steve would rather spend time on a fake date with him than a real one with someone just right, but who could never be as right as Bucky, isn't so much a punch in the gut as it's something that just makes Steve want to bang his head against the bar counter until he passes out.

Instead of doing that — which would've been the smart thing to do, but apparently tonight is gonna be a night of terrible choices all around — Steve watches the line of Bucky's neck when he drinks, and the way he uses his hands when he talks. Bucky's a stunner, yeah, that's nothing new to Steve. But for the first time, Steve watches him and lets himself be stunned.

Which is what he's going to blame for letting his guard down and asking, like a complete tool, 'How come no one likes you enough for a second date?'

Bucky stops with the glass halfway to his lips and puts it down, and swallows, and looks away. 'I guess it's pretty obvious I got someone else on my mind,' he says, hurried, eyes fixed on his hands on the counter.

The first thing that comes to Steve's mind is _I'm sorry_ , but before he can even open his mouth to say it, the second thought knocks the breath out of his lungs, because — because Bucky isn't talking about Natasha, not at all. Not with the way he glances at Steve then away again, and colour is creeping up the back of his neck, and Christ, this is Bucky, he _never_ blushes; not with the way his shoulders tense and he's biting his lip and he looks ready to bolt.

'Oh,' Steve says, very eloquently, then to cement his standing as the least suave guy in history, adds: ' _oh_.'

This could go very badly very quickly, he knows, they're on the brink of tragedy (although, okay, maybe that's a little too dramatic). This could go very badly, but it could also go…differently. So Steve does the only thing he knows how to do, at this point, and trusts it will steer him right: he follows his heart.

'Okay, see,' he says. Bucky turns to him, and he shouldn't have to be so cautious around Steve, it's just not right, so Steve keeps talking and hopes the things he's not saying are there on his face for Bucky to read: 'See, I got this handsome soldier I think I'm kinda stupid about, but I don't know if — I don't know if he'll have me.'

Bucky swallows, eyes a little wide, but his jaw is tight. 'Might try and impress him with your heroic deeds,' he says. 'Your handsome soldier, I mean.'

'Nah.' Steve smiles, and lets it go a little lopsided. 'He's not easily impressed. Saw all my heroic deeds, been there to see most of 'em. He's really —' Steve stops, feeling himself flush, and it's hard to keep looking Bucky in the eye, but he does it. 'I think he's the only person I ever really wanted to impress, you know? But I never had to.'

And there it is.

All out, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Because of course it would be too easy for this to go the way it does in Thor's favourite romantic comedies, where after an hour and a half of madcap shenanigans the hero says, _I love you, I've always loved you_ and the heroine says, _Well, about time_ and they live happily ever after.

Because it's them, and it might always be easy with Bucky, but maybe some things just aren't meant to be easy.

Bucky stares at his empty glass, and pushes it away. 'Sounds like you should've got around with him a long time ago, then.'

'Yeah.' Easier said than done, when Steve's bright moment of realisation was really was kind of extremely overdue. 'Shoulda, coulda. Didn't. Maybe I always worried too much about the rules.'

'So what changed?'

 _I was an idiot_ , but that's not quite it. Steve rubs his eyes with his fingers. 'The rules are all different now. They're not there. Or, I don't know, there's probably. There's always rules. I don't know.'

And it's the wrong thing to say, because Bucky's shoulders hunch and he smiles, but it's not a real smile. 'You don't know,' he repeats, like that answers his question — and it does, doesn't it? He needs Steve to be sure. 'Guess you should think on it, eh?' He throws a couple bills on the counter and moves to leave.

There's an outraged squawk somewhere behind them, and Steve throws a glare in Clint and Natasha's direction before he grabs Bucky by the arm.

'Wait, no.'

Bucky looks at Steve's hand on his arm, then pointedly raises his eyebrows. Steve lets him go.

'I need a smoke,' Bucky says.

'Then I'm coming with you,' says Steve, and does just that.

It's freezing outside, and Bucky swears. He lights his cigarette, then quickly shoves his right hand into his pocket, and the two of them stand huddled together next to the door. They're not the only people out, it's not nearly late enough, but the snow muffles the city around them. A cab drives by, way too fast.

Next to Steve, Bucky breathes smoke, and doesn't look at Steve, but that's fine. This isn't new, the let's-just-be-close-and-not-talk; for them, Steve doesn't think anything could be new, except for the obvious things. He blushes. He's not really sure they haven't blurred the lines, once or twice; Bucky is a sweet drunk, handsy with anything that moves, and Steve — the few times he got really drunk, he only half-remembers those times. There's one hazy memory of climbing into bed with Bucky, laughing and warm, but what Steve mostly remembers is waking up alone.

But he doesn't want to wake up alone again, not if he has a chance. Very deliberately, Steve thinks: fuck the rules.

When Bucky drops the butt of his cigarette to the ground and it hisses in the snow, Steve steps closer. Bucky has to look up, a little, to compensate for the couple inches Steve has on him.

'Okay,' Steve says. 'I thought on it.'

Bucky blinks.

'And yeah, I don't know if this is a good idea, but when has that ever stopped me?'

'Never,' Bucky agrees. His mouth twitches, but he doesn't smile, just keeps looking at Steve long and hard and maybe he's waiting for Steve to run away; well, in that case he's gonna wait a long-ass time. Finally he nods. 'Okay.' His hand on Steve's shirt _doesn't_ make Steve jump, and when Bucky slides it up, to cup the back of Steve's neck, Steve is hit with that delirious, wonderful feeling you get before you kiss someone and know they'll kiss back, and it's just like jumping out of a rackety plane over Austria, except so much better.

'Okay,' Bucky says again, like he has to talk himself into this, so Steve just grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him closer, presses his mouth to Bucky's. He tastes like smoke and tobacco, and also like his stupid Black Russian, but all it does is make Steve smile and lick into his mouth to see if there's tobacco and vodka on Bucky's tongue, too.

There is, and Bucky lets out a small sound before his fingers tighten in Steve's hair and _now_ they're kissing, deep and not even a little bit gentle and all kinds of amazing and maybe even desperate, for all the years lost between them, all the ice. All the times Steve didn't know he was allowed to look, and all the times Bucky _did_ look but Steve never knew, and all the times they were idiots, and all the times when it was the world that was at fault.

When they break apart, Steve opens his eyes to see snow melting in Bucky's hair, and they stand pressed together, breathing the same air and watching it mist in the cold. Bucky slides his right hand into the front pocket of Steve's jeans, and Steve has to kiss him again, just for that.

And it doesn't feel any different, the earth doesn't quake and there's no thunder in the sky, so really, Steve decides, maybe someone should have told him a long, long time ago that this is what being in love feels like: like standing close on a freezing New York night with your heart doing somersaults, and knowing that whatever happens you'll always remember this moment as a start of something even better.

'If I ask you to come home with me,' Steve says, a little hoarse, pressing his smile to the corner of Bucky's mouth, 'will you think I'm easy?'

Bucky grins. 'I _know_ you're easy. Too late to try and make a good first impression.'

'So come home with me,' Steve says, then leans back to properly look Bucky in the eye because this is how he wants to tell him, yeah, he's sure. He's surer than he's been of anything for as long as he remembers. 'Come home with me.'

And the impossible, unbelievable, breathtaking thing is that Bucky smiles, fond and affectionate and so achingly familiar, he smiles and says: 'Yeah, let's go home.'

~

Steve wakes up sore in more places than one and kind of cold because _someone_ apparently likes to hog the covers, but mostly he wakes up grinning. Next to him Bucky is still snoring, his limbs are everywhere and his hair looks like a small woodland creature had a party in it (it didn't; what happened is that it turns out he really likes it when Steve pulls his hair when Bucky's mouth is occupied with not being a smartass, and Steve stops that train of thought right there, though to be fair, it's not like he won't be daydreaming about things like that for the rest of the…week, he decides a week should be okay).

With a heavy heart and more than one longing look at Bucky sprawled on the bed, he gets up and pulls on a t-shirt and some boxers and elects to ignore the pile of clothes scattered all over the bedroom. Today should be sort of like a holiday. He's allowed to be daring.

Also, he's hungry, and he bets Bucky will be too when he wakes up; food should be a priority here, and if Steve idly wonders how much the kitchen table could withstand before it broke, that's between him and his lizard brain.

It's a good thing he at least has a t-shirt and boxers on. Stationed on the living room couch and watching the bedroom door for signs of activity are the Avengers, and as soon as Steve walks out their expressions go all sunny and expectant (well, aside from Natasha, who is a little more dignified).

Steve stands with his arms crossed over his chest and levels them with his best _Seriously, you guys?_ look.

'So the perfect date,' Bruce prompts.

Clint is practically bouncing with impatience. 'How did it go?'

For a moment, Steve wants to tell them it's really none of their business. But that's not true, is it? They came up with the whole ridiculous idea of setting him up on a blind date with Bucky, instead of just giving him a pamphlet about how to realise you're in love with your best pal, or show him the dictionary entry for 'denial', or even explain what they meant when they said that bit in _The Little Mermaid_ was kind of familiar.

So Steve lets his expression fall, and his eyes get a little teary. 'It was horrible,' he says, and looks each and every one of his teammates in the eye, trying to radiate misery and disappointment. 'I waited and waited, and she didn't show. Bucky was even there, but he went home. I had this image of a perfect, flawless woman, I was so _hopeful_ it might work out, and she doesn't exist.'

Then he goes in for the kill: his lip quivers and he sniffs mournfully. 'Is this was a joke for you,' he says, in a tone of voice he should probably reserve for people who stomp on puppies, 'it was very cruel.'

There's silence. Steve thinks the best way to finish this would be for a single manly tear to roll down his cheek or something. Maybe he should teach himself to cry on command. It could be useful in the field.

Still, everyone looks shamefaced and completely crushed. Serves them right.

Which, of course, is when the bedroom door opens and Bucky walks out, barefoot and trying to muffle a yawn, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that cling to him by a thread. There's a very unmistakable trail of hickeys running up his neck. He squints at the Avengers dubiously, and when he passes Steve he snaps the waistband of his boxers. Steve laughs and, smirking, lets his eyes trail after Bucky; those jeans are pretty mindblowing.

He turns back to the speechless and gawking Avengers.

'You,' Bruce chokes out, pointing an accusing finger. 'That's — oh my god. You just played us. You lying liar. Captain America can't lie!'

'There's a lot you probably think Captain America can't do,' Bucky calls from the kitchen.

'I actually started to pity you,' says Tony. He winces, and clutches at the reactor in his chest. 'What is this feeling? What's happening?'

Steve sighs. 'It's called guilt, Tony.'

Tony gasps in horror. 'You _monster_.'

Bucky comes out of the kitchen, then, and takes Steve's wrist, all casual, like it's nothing. It makes Steve want to kiss him breathless right then and there, but before he can do anything embarrassing Bucky scowls at the Avengers and says, 'What is this, a Sunday matinee? Go away, I'm not making breakfast for all you kids.'

And he pulls Steve along to the kitchen.

'Is that what they're calling it these days?' Clint shouts after them.

Steve closes the door to the kitchen; let the team let themselves out. He leans against the door and grins at Bucky, and Bucky leans against the table and grins at him. They're really neither of them young or careless, but it sure feels that way.

'What they're calling it these days is second date,' Steve says, raising an eyebrow in what he hopes is a good approximation of sexy and smooth. 'Will you go on a second date with me?'

Bucky laughs. He reaches out, and like a magnet, like a moth, Steve moves towards him until Bucky can fist his hand in the front of Steve's shirt and pull him close. He sits up on the table, knees wide apart, so Steve can stand in the v of his legs.

'Yeah,' he says, and smiles into Steve's mouth. 'Yeah, bring it on.'


End file.
